Dinosaur (aka Bike) Part 645 by Angharad |
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I slept very deeply hardly registering that the aliens were here again. When John Humphrys went on about the Speaker of the House of Commons possibly going to lose a vote of confidence, I felt bored enough to get up. Indicting the Speaker is like doing the same to the President–not above the law, but the office is almost sacred, even if the incumbents are total a’holes.
Politics–it was a loathsome career for people of the same persuasion–loathsome chancers.
As I showered with the girls, I mused on the most reviled professions, which probably meant that estate agents were replaced at the top by MPs, leapfrogging lawyers on the way up, or should that be down?
“Mummy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is Gaddy weawwy a girw?
My brain took a moment to function. “I think she means Gaby, Mummy, the girl in the story last night.”
“Yes, Gaddy, is she a girw, wike Twish?”
“I think so, but she doesn’t know it yet, unlike Trish.”
“Doesn’t know she’s a girw? That’s siwwy.”
“It only seems silly to you because you know what you are–a little girl. Some children seem to be caught in a no man’s land.”
Trish laughed, “If they’re in no man’s land, they must be ladies.”
“Yes, I can see what you think, Trish, but no man’s land means land not under the control of two armies fighting a war. It belongs to no man, or woman for that matter.”
“I think my idea is better, Mummy.”
“Yes, so do I, Mummy,” agreed Mima.
“Okay, well you can write to the Imperial War Museum and tell ‘em so.”
“Will you help me, Mummy?”
“Of course.”
“Can we do it tonight?”
“We’ll see, I have to take Auntie Stella to register the birth of her baby.”
“We know her name, it’s Puddin’,” said Trish.
“Don’t let your Auntie Stella hear you saying that, or you’ll be for the high jump,” I replied drying her hair. “Go and get Daddy up, Meems, we need some help here.”
“Okay, Mummy,” giggling like some deranged demon, she ran into the bed and I heard Simon groan. She had quite possibly jumped on him or shaken her still wet hair over his face. I laughed, and after plaiting Trish’s hair I dried my own and put that in a plait as well.
“We look like twins, Mummy.”
“Like Arnie Schwarzenegger and the little chap in the film Twins, only I’m the big ugly one and you’re the small beautiful one.”
She hugged me, and said, “I think you’re beautiful, too, Mummy.”
“Well thank you, young lady, I happen to think the same about you.”
“Daddy’s up,” said Mima breezing back into the bathroom.
“Okey dokey, right, Trish, you go and get him to help you dress, your skirt and blouse again with tights, it’s not too warm. Right, Missy, let’s get this mop dried.” I tousled her hair and she laughed again.
Breakfast was livened up by Stella’s presence, she’d already fed the baby who was sleeping again. “My, don’t you two look grown up,” she said looking at the two girls. “Do you want me to braid, Mima’s hair?”
I looked at her, and she nodded, “Please, Stella.” Mima went over to her and Stella picked up her comb and began unteasing the tangles.
“You’ve got lovely hair, like your Mummy, you must take after her.”
“No, I got my own hair, Mummy got hew own, too. I don’t take, Mummy’s.” Mima was quite indignant.
“I’ll leave you to sort that one out Stella. Can you watch her while I run Trish to school?”
“Yeah course, though we might have to go and see Puddin’ if she squawks.”
“See, Mummy, Annie Stewwa’s baby is cawed Puddin’.”
I kept my gaze away from Mima, I was blushing like a tomato, a very ripe red one. “See ya later, Meems be good for Auntie Stella.” I practically yanked Trish through the door.
“Why are you blushing, Mummy?”
“It was hot in there.”
“No it wasn’t, you were embarrassed because of what Mima said about Puddin’. Do you think she’ll be called Puddin’ by the register bloke.”
“Register bloke? What sort of English is that?”
“The bloke who does the register?”
“The Registrar, not register bloke, besides it could be a woman.”
“Maybe, I’ll be a registrar.”
“It can also mean a hospital doctor who is one below a consultant.”
“Look out, Mummy,” she shrieked and I swerved to miss a car pulling out in front of us, and whose driver had obviously not looked to see if anything was overtaking it. In some ways, I’d have loved to have been driving Tom’s old Landrover, and scratched all her door. Then I thought about the paperwork for the insurance and was glad we hadn’t collided.
“Stupid bitch,” I yelled at her. If she’d stopped, I’d have slapped her one. I was so cross.
“She made a mistake, Mummy.”
“Yes, the stupid cow,” I felt like giving her the finger.
“Calling her names won’t help either of you, isn’t that what you always tell us?”
I had my second hot-flush of the morning, both induced by children. Maybe I should have stayed without issue and had fun instead of this constant masochism that are children. Nah, I’ll get over being chastised by my foster daughter.
“You are absolutely right, my darling girl. I apologise.” God it was hot.
“You look very hot, Mummy.”
“Yes, must be from the engine.”
“What is from the engine, Mummy?”
“Yes, engine’s produce watts, it’s a unit of work.”
“I don’t understand, Mummy.”
“You probably will one day, I’m not going to compromise your education for one minor thing. Here we are,” I said parking the car in what looked like the last available parking space along the kerb.
A large 4x4 parked alongside me about three inches away and I couldn’t open my door. “You stupid cow,” called Trish.
Comments
Out of the mouths of babes!
Out of the mouths of babes! Cathy had best watch what she says in front of the two girls, especially in front of Trish as she does seem to pick up things really easy. i can see trish being a real handful when she is older as she is quite bright now. J-Lynn
Laughing
I've been told off my my kids way too often. The funniest one was when my oldest daughter was being indoctrinated at school about the evils of alcohol. She was convinced that a glass of wine with dinner made me an alcoholic. Loved it when Trish took up the cause on the SUV driver. Now Cathy has to remind her of proper speech from a 5 year old. Do I see a cycle here? Fun chapter.
My boy
My boy was around 6 or so, his dad and I stopped at the liquor store (I got the kids when my brother died). I was waiting in the car listening to this kid mutter under his breath "Look at all the druggies. I didn't know there were that many." or some such. When questioned by his Dad the boy solemnly informed his Dad that TEACHER said alcohol was a drug. It was really funny listening to the two talk while I drove, his Dad getting more frustrated in the childs stance that if teacher said it, it must be true.
Uh Oh, Just When The Fun Abounds,
What could possibly be more Russians are after Cathy. I do hope that I am wrong.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Here's one for Tom...
Here it is without the ad:
The Scottish Military Field Hospital
This is a particularly literary joke. Some will absolutely love it, and pretty much everyone else will hate it.
- - -
The new commander in Iraq hears that a Scottish regiment has a specialized field hospital that's doing fantastic things with the troops. He wants to know what is so special about the place, so he arranges a tour.
When he gets to the ward, it's full of patients with no obvious sign of injury or illness. He's perplexed, so goes up to the first bed and greets the soldier there.
The patient replies:
"Fair fa your honest sonsie face,
Great chieftain o the puddin race,
Aboon them a ye take yer place,
Painch, tripe or thairm,
As langs my airm."
The general is confused, so he just grins and moves on to the next patient.
That soldier responds:
"Some hae meat an canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it,
But we hae meat an we can eat,
So let the Lord be thankit."
Even more confused, and his grin now rictus-like, the commander moves on to the next patient, who immediately begins to chant:
"Wee sleekit, cowerin, timorous beasty,
O the panic in thy breasty,
Thou needna start awa sae hastie,
Wi bickering brattle."
Now seriously troubled, the general turns to the accompanying doctor and asks, "Is this a psychiatric ward?"
"No, not at all," replies the doctor. "This is the Serious Burns unit."
-
Cheers,
Puddin'
A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style
Horrible!!!!
I'm still groaning on that one.
BOOOO!!!!
oooooh
Serious groan. While the Burns was appreciated, the punch line got me.
Thankee.
Annette MacGregor
LOL - I know I shouldn't...
But, hearing Trish echo Cathy's words was WONDERFUL! If I'd been there, I'd have been stifling my laughter for all I was worth, and probably have been having problems. Almost as funny as the other day, when my older daughter suggested (to my spouse) that if I get the FFS surgery, I'll become her "trophy wife"... Daughter's telling of the story is my spouse almost had an accident. My spouse - she claimed she laughed hard, but never came close to loosing control of the car. LOL (I do admit to being encouraged that they joke like that!)
Otherwise, an nice morning... I do wonder who owns the 4x4 and how things will be handled in the next episode...
Thanks,
Annette
Hope its not a bit of road
Hope its not a bit of road rage... And Cathy does not have to show off her self defence skills in front of the school?... Think how that would look!!!
kirri
hey
... she'd probably get asked to give a class.
Kristina
Priceless !!!
Yes, Watts sometimes does generate a lot of horsepower. Like now. Atta girl Trisha !
Where do you come up with these lines ?
Lassie, ye must have led a questionable life before this !
Cefin